by Erika Kelly
“Exactly.”
Inspiration struck. “Let’s do that, then. We need to keep the pathway clear so the models don’t trip, and we can’t have the fabric catching on anything, but it would be awesome to create an English garden.”
“That’s a good idea,” Gray said. “It’ll keep costs down.”
“Maybe we can hang some fans,” Knox said. “The fabric would look amazing fluttering in a breeze. We could bring in some planters with trees to make it look like a hedge.”
“I should write this down,” Robert said.
As Gray reached for a pad of paper and pencil, Knox continued. “If there’s time, we could cover the walls with trompe l’oeil canvases. A manor house in the distance on one, a view of the countryside on another.” But they didn’t have time—no, wait, it was an art gallery. The owner must know an artist who could put something like this together. “Can you talk to the florist about planters and trees and pink and white roses? We can’t have colors that will overshadow the dresses.”
While Robert took notes, Knox shared a smile with Gray. This is going to work, isn’t it?
She loved his answering expression. Looks like it.
“The gallery owner’s got the champagne covered,” Robert said. “She gets a nice discount. So, that leaves stylists and makeup artists. There’s no shortage of talent in the Tri-State area, so I’m not worried about any of that.” He looked between the two of them. “Sound good?”
Gray nodded, and she said, “It does.” She felt like she’d breathed in helium, like she was about to lift off. But it wasn’t a done deal, so she needed to stay grounded. “Let’s hope we can get the right people to come.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Robert said. “But I do think our best bet is to show as early in the week as possible. Once they see your collection, they’ll clear some room in their schedules to meet with you. We’ll keep the gallery open every day for presentations and hope to hell someone makes an appointment for a private showing.”
“The models understand they’re booked for the week?” she asked.
“Oh. A whole week?” Robert feigned shock. “Is that how it works?”
She whacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Excuse me for being careful, you ass.”
And then he let loose his signature cocky smirk, and his charisma and magnetism flowed all over her. “I got this.”
She felt almost drunk from the crazy cocktail of emotions sloshing inside her. Hope, fear, relief. It was too good to be true, standing here beside a clean and sober Robert who was competently putting together a fashion show for her. “Thank you.”
For being the man I always wanted you to be.
And giving me back my show.
“I’m not going to let you down. I did enough of that in the past. It won’t happen again. You’re going to get your fashion week. And we’re going knock it out of the park.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Gray dumped his board and boots in the back of the truck. They’d had a great day on the mountain, but he needed to get home. Today, Knox had moved into the new space, and he wanted to help her unpack. Hopefully, she’d find that sketchbook.
As he rounded the truck, he pulled out his keys, only to find his brothers heading into the resort. “Where you going?”
“Take a leak,” Brodie said.
“It’s a thirty-five-minute drive home.” Dammit. “You can’t wait?”
“Nope.” Brodie led the way inside the ski lodge.
Pocketing his keys, Gray took in the rustic decor. Pretty busy, considering they hadn’t had the first snowfall, when the cross-country skiers would start showing up. His brothers headed across the lobby to the restrooms, but Gray pulled out his phone. He’d just check in with her, see how the move was going.
But before the call could connect, one voice snagged his attention in the noisy bar. It didn’t make sense to hear it in this town on the other side of their mountain. He turned to look, sure he’d find some other guy who sounded like his friend.
But, no, there he was. Robert, sitting at a bar in Idaho in the middle of the afternoon, yucking it up with some older men. Anger broke out across his skin like a rash.
Was he playing them? Striding over, he clapped a hand a little too hard on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, man. Small world.”
It was just a flash of fear—a flinch around the eyes—replaced by Robert’s winning smile. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Big storm’s coming in that’ll close the pass for the winter. Thought we’d drop in for one last run.”
“Saw the heli. Should’ve known it was yours.” He twisted around. “Knox here?”
“Nope. She’s working her ass off to get those dresses done in time.” His tone made his point for him.
Robert gave him a shit-eating grin. “Got it all under control.”
“Yeah? You line up the rest of the models? Hire some stylists?”
Robert slid off the stool, forcing Gray to take a step back. “You don’t trust me, I get that. But you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to mess things up with her.”
“What things are we talking about, specifically?” Because that sure sounded like he meant more than a fashion show.
“All the things she wanted from me before, but I couldn’t give her because I was too much of an asshole.”
“Top of that list…” He tipped his head toward the bar. “Sobriety.”
“Ah, come on, man. I’ve been sober seven years. I can handle a beer or two.”
“You sure about that?” He was pretty sure an addict shouldn’t be in a bar.
“I’m sure about a lot of things.”
“Seems like you’ve got something to say to me,” Gray said. “You weren’t man enough back in high school, but I’m hoping you are now.”
“Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”
And right when Gray girded himself to hear about Robert’s intention of winning Knox back, the man shocked the hell out of him.
“It felt like you used my bad behavior to make yourself look better than me. And, a lot of the time, when I’d take things too far and you had to save the day, I think I just wanted to take you down a notch, to my level.” He dug his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. “And I’m sorry for that. Been waiting a long time to say that to you.” He looked him right in the eye. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”
The humility hit him right in the gut, as powerful as a fist. Made him think Robert really had changed. Except…a bar? And not just that, but one in Idaho? “Thank you. It’s good to hear.”
“Truth is, you’re the only one who didn’t put up with my shit. I wore everyone else out, but you were smart enough to bail on me junior year.”
“I didn’t bail on you.”
“Hey, I’m trying to apologize here.” And yet the words sounded pointed. Barbed.
“Apology accepted.”
“When your dad shut me out, that was the beginning of the end for our friendship. I don’t blame you. Your dad was a good guy. You wouldn’t go against him.”
Like hell he’d let that comment stand. “My dad didn’t give up on you until you stole his watch and showed up wasted for a competition.”
Robert had never admitted to the crime, had been offended at the very idea that he would steal from the man who’d been more of a father to him than his own dad had been. Gray waited, because his response would make all the difference in determining whether Robert was sincere or playing them.
Head lowered, Robert drew in a deep breath. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with a mix of challenge and remorse. “I was an addict.” He shrugged. “I stole from everybody. My parents, my friends, even my girlfriend. Who I loved more than anything.”
Was that a warning? Had he come back for Knox?
It needed to be addressed, here and now. “You want her back? Is that what you’re really doing in town, making her dream come true?”
An ugly curl at one side of Robert’s mouth sen
t a shiver down his spine. “You love her?”
He wouldn’t stir his friend’s competitive instincts. “It’s new, what we have. But it’s strong.” He tried to read Robert’s expression but couldn’t. “What’s your point?”
“Just asking.”
“Why? Because if you’re going to make a move on her, I want to know. I have a right to know.”
“Why is that, now? Because you never made a move on her when I was going out with her? Tit for tat? Is that something like Knox’s eye for an eye? Because I don’t subscribe to that philosophy myself.”
“Yeah? And what, exactly, are you into?”
The tension rose, crackling between them, and Gray’s body braced for action.
But then—just like that—it broke. And Robert’s features turned slack. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. I’m twenty-five years old, and I just wasted seven years trying to get things going in LA. I want a damn career. That’s it. That’s all I want.”
The anxiety dropped fast and hard, and he almost felt sympathy for the guy. “Glad to see your mom’s giving you a shot. You can’t do better than The Granger Collection.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Your mom staying on top of this?” If she was, Gray would have absolute confidence.
“She’s in Milan, but yeah, I’m working with someone.” He straightened. “So, you don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna fuck this up.”
In her new office, Knox zipped up the muslin for her very first actual bride. It was about a thousand times more emotional and rewarding than working with models.
Callie smoothed the fabric around her hips, twisting around to see her reflection from behind in the full-length mirror. “You’d think as an artist I could imagine what the actual dress will look like.”
“Well, hopefully the sketch makes it come to life for you,” Knox said. “A few layers of drab muslin won’t give you the princess effect.”
“What if I gain ten pounds? I haven’t even set a wedding date yet.”
“Do you plan on gaining weight?” Knox hoped her friend wasn’t pregnant. That wouldn’t work out very well. “It’s easier to take a dress in than let it out.”
Callie cut a stern but playful look to Delilah. “Maybe if someone stopped trying out her amazing recipes on us, I might have a hope in hell.”
“Sorry-not-sorry for cooking something other than sweet potato,” Delilah said.
“Literally never apologize,” Callie said. “Whatever you did to that chicken the other night? Pure witchcraft.”
“Here.” Knox reached for her sketchbook and flipped to Callie’s gown. “Hold this up while you’re looking in the mirror.”
Callie’s gaze shifted from the sketch to the mirror.
“Okay, that’s not exactly the kind of look we’re hoping for when you’re imagining your wedding gown,” Delilah said.
“It’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.” But Callie looked unsure. “I love it.”
“Hey, can I show you something?” Knox reached for the sketchbook. Flip, flip, flip. “Take a look at this.”
Delilah got up on the dais with Callie, and they both looked at the sketch.
Knox saw the moment it happened, awe dawning over Callie’s features, and it filled her with more joy, more satisfaction, than seeing any of her dresses on models over the last several years.
Callie looked from the sketch to the mirror and back again.
“Now, that is you,” Delilah said.
Callie’s gaze found Knox in the mirror, and she looked incredibly conflicted.
“If you want it, you can have it.” Knox gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s not too late.”
“But we ordered the material,” Callie said.
“And I’ll use it. All of it.”
“You’re not mad?” Callie asked.
“Hey, I designed it with you in mind. This one…” She gestured to the muslin. “Will be perfect for someone else.”
“I guess I just had this idea in my head,” Callie said wistfully.
“But this is you.” Delilah pointed at the sketchbook.
“It really is.” Callie turned around, forcing Delilah to step off the dais. “So, you really don’t mind if we do this one?”
“You want to see the back first?” Knox motioned for her to turn the page.
“Oh, my God.” Callie’s eyes bugged out. “That’s crazy sexy.” She snapped the book shut and held it to her chest. “I’m so in love with this dress.”
“Fin’s gonna cry like a little bitch when he sees you walking toward him,” Delilah said.
“Aw, you’re so romantic,” Callie said.
“So, that’s the one?” Knox asked.
“For sure.”
“Speaking of which,” Delilah said. “While I’m here, do you think I could look through your sketchbook? The one you said had some ideas I might like?”
“Unfortunately, no. I lost it in the move.”
“You what?” Delilah looked horrified.
“Don’t worry. Your dress wasn’t in that one—”
“You must be devastated,” Delilah said.
Oh. The woman had been worried about Knox. Not her own wedding gown. “I am, actually.”
“Maybe it’s in one of the boxes.” Callie stepped off the dais.
“I don’t think so. We’ve opened all of them.” Knox glanced through the office windows overlooking her new space. The sewers were already back at work. Phone cradled on his shoulder, Zach paced, one hand gesticulating. “And I’ve turned the bunkhouse upside down.”
“Gray’s truck?” Callie said. “A different purse?”
“I’ve searched everywhere. It’s just gone. Things always get lost in a move, but don’t worry about your dress. I always have new ideas.”
“I’m not worried at all,” Delilah said. “Besides, you have more than enough on your plate. How about you get through fashion week, and then we’ll talk about finishing my dress?”
Knox gave her a grateful smile.
“Okay,” Callie said. “I have to pick up some Coco’s chocolates I ordered for an event at the museum tonight. Want to come into town with me, and we can get a coffee?”
Knox unzipped the muslin. What the new dress lacked in volume, she could make up with some subtle but dynamic bling. Like embedding tiny crystals—
“Knox?” Callie said.
She peered at the future bride. “Yeah?” Had she missed something?
“Coffee?”
She spit the pins out again. “Oh, me? I thought you were talking to Delilah.”
“I’m talking to both of you. Coffee at Calamity Joe’s?”
She bit down on her go-to response. I have to get back to work. Because she’d been working since five in the morning and would continue to work long after the sewers went home, so taking a half hour to hang out with her…friends was absolutely fine. Besides, she’d already been barked at in the fanciest restaurant in town. There was literally nothing those idiots could do to hurt her now. “I’d love it.”
“I must be in the wrong studio,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
They all turned to see Robert breezing in with a to-go tray of two hot beverages.
“Hey, Robert,” Callie said. “Good to see you.”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Then, he gave Delilah the full wattage of his brilliant smile. “Well, hello, there. I’m Robert Granger.”
“Delilah Lua. Nice to meet you.”
He turned back to the muslin. “So, is this the new Amish line?”
“Ha ha,” Knox said. “This is the mock-up. It’s how we make sure the dress fits perfectly before we cut expensive and rare fabrics.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He held the tray out to her. “Got you tea.”
“Oh, thank you.” She reached for it and cupped it in both hands. “What brings you out here?”
“Bringing you tea isn’t reason enough?” Robert said. “No? Okay, fine. I’
ve got news.”
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Callie said.
“Don’t leave on my account.”
Callie headed for the door. “I have to take this off, and I’m one hundred percent sure I don’t want to listen to your news in my underpants. Besides, I left my clothes in the bathroom.” She reached for the door, then called back to Knox. “Meet us at Joe’s, if you can.”
“Will do.” Once the women left, she turned to Robert. “So, what’s the news?”
He took a leisurely sip of his coffee, obviously toying with her. “If you only needed one person to show up to make the show worthwhile, who would it be?”
She didn’t even have to think. “Alayna Chaumier.”
“Now, I’m new at this, but would she happen to be the senior editor at Bridal Couture magazine?”
“Oh, my God, don’t play around. Is she coming? Did you get her?”
That smile—God, it threw her back to her childhood. Robert had always been ridiculously handsome. He had a sexy mouth and mischievous eyes, thick, dark hair and a trim frame. He dressed well, smelled expensive, and was utterly charming. Her heart swelled to see him so healthy. So vibrant.
This was the man she’d wanted him to be in high school.
This was the man she’d wanted to take her to prom, when she’d worn a sensational dress and wanted to go out on a high note. “How did you get her?”
“Seriously, you completely underestimate yourself. All I had to do was tell her your show’s back on. That’s it. She wants to come. So much that she’s already booked a private appointment with you.”
She turned away from him, one hand over her heart to keep it from bursting, and blinked back tears. Her skin felt hot, itchy, and she wanted Gray.
“Hey. You okay? I know I didn’t get your approval, but after our conversation the other morning, it seemed like we were all on the same page. You liked everything I’d set up so far. I thought…if I got the right people to come, you’d be happy.”
Lost in a cloud of emotion, she couldn’t get the words out. She was showing her gowns in Bridal Fashion Week. It’s going to happen. Alayna Chaumier would see them.
And Knox wasn’t scared—not a bit—about what kind of review she’d get. Because she knew.
